


"Family" Adventure

by Macncheese22



Series: Skyrim Adventures [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-03-09 00:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13469583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macncheese22/pseuds/Macncheese22
Summary: This story is a follow-up to my previous fic, Skyrim and the Witcher Crossover, and takes place after Ciri defeats the Hunt. Follows the story of Brynjar and Ciri's deepening relationship, along with Geralt and Yennefer. Will they accept the Dragonborn or will they make his life hell? All of this also in the midst of an approaching war with the Aldmeri Dominion.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ciri, you know I hate portals.” Geralt complained for the third time that day.   
“Stop whining! Besides it’ll be worth it, you’ll see.” Ciri told him. Since defeating the Wild Hunt, she had been unrestricted in her abilities to travel between worlds, though Avallac’h warned her about over-exhausting herself. Yennefer looked concerned. “You need to be careful, Ciri. No man is worth exhausting yourself for.”   
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Take my hands, this should be relatively quick.”   
Geralt sighed and gripped Ciri’s hand and Yennefer took the other. The air crackled and shimmered with energy as Ciri transported them through to Skyrim.   
The three of them landed in the forest outside Brynjar’s home. Ciri motioned for them to follow her. “Come on, he should be around here somewhere.”  
Geralt looked at Yen, who looked at him and exchanged a somewhat hesitant look. While Ciri seemed to be in love with Brynjar and was confident they would like him, they were skeptical about it. All they hoped was that this man she met wasn’t simply using her or pretending.   
The trio came to the large house next to a lake. Ciri looked around for a moment, Geralt and Yen following behind. “Brynjar! Bryn!”  
“Ciri?” A voice called back from the lake. Brynjar spotted her and his heart lifted. “Ciri!” He pulled himself out of the lake, still dripping wet and completely naked. He started towards her, but stopped when he saw her parents.   
Geralt simply groaned and turned away at seeing the man naked. Yennefer just smiled and muttered, “Well that’s certainly one way to make a lasting first impression.”   
Brynjar grinned widely at all of them. “Pardons on my part, I just came from a swim,” He turned to Ciri. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want you to get wet.”   
Ciri smiled back at him and whispered, “You don’t have to touch me to make me wet.”   
“Of course not. Why don’t you all come in? It’s getting dark out now.”   
Geralt nodded, still not looking at him. “Only if you swear to put some clothes on.”  
Brynjar laughed. “I promise. Come in.” He held the door open for them to enter. He immediately went to his own room to dry off and put on some clothes. Ciri quickly made herself comfortable.   
Geralt sighed. “Does he do that all the time? Walk around naked like that?”   
“Quit whining. We just caught him by surprise.” Yen answered. Ciri nodded in agreement. After a few moments, Brynjar came out of his room, now fully clothed.   
“Alright, now we can greet each other properly. Ciri!” He lunged forward to embrace Ciri.   
“Hey Bryn,” She smiled as his strong arms hugged her tightly. They kissed deeply, expressing how much they missed each other. Ciri could feel the incoming eye-roll and grumble from Geralt. “Brynjar, I want you meet my family. That’s Geralt, my father. And she is Yennefer, my mother.”   
Brynjar extended his hand to Geralt. “A pleasure to finally meet you. Ciri talked non-stop about you when she was here,” After shaking Geralt’s hand, he went to kiss Yennefer’s. “And you too. Ciri certainly didn’t lie when she said how beautiful you were.  
“She also didn’t lie when she told us how handsome you were.”  
Geralt shot her a hurt look. “Ahem. I am standing right here.”   
Yennefer scoffed. “Oh please, Geralt, I’m merely stating a fact. No need to get all worried.”   
“Right. Thank you very much. Well, you all can make yourselves comfortable,” Brynjar went to the kitchen space. “I wasn’t expecting guests, so if anyone’s hungry, I’m roasting a venison haunch and making some stew.”   
Ciri sat at the long dinner table across from Geralt and Yennefer. “  
Wonderful. Bryn makes a fantastic vegetable stew, better than most women do, I’d say.”  
“Cozy house too. Real homey feel to it. Did he build it himself?” Geralt asked, looking around at the swords and trophy mounts.   
“I’m not sure, but I’ll ask later.”   
Yennefer also looked at the weapons mounted on the wall. “Impressive. He must be quite an adventurer.”   
“I am,” Brynjar came to the table with several bottles of mead. “I’ve done my fair share of delving in Dwarven ruins and ancient barrows. Happened to find quite a few prizes down there.” He pointed to a large battleaxe with a screaming elf’s face on it. “That one right there belonged to the first inhabitants of Skyrim, the Companions. Wuuthrad, or elf’s bane, they called it.”   
“Lemme guess, there was big war between humans and elves. I’ll also guess who started it.” Geralt observed.   
“If you’re gonna guess it was humans who started it, you’re wrong. We came here peacefully, tried to live in peace and respected boundaries. They were the ones who massacred thousands of sleeping people and burnt them alive. That called for vengeance, and it was well deserved.”  
“No race deserves to be completely wiped out like that.” Geralt retorted.   
“Gents, let’s not argue about who deserved to die and why. Bryn, is the food ready yet? I’m famished.” Ciri interrupted.   
“Not yet. Until then, have a drink?” Brynjar distributed the mead and poured some into a tankard for himself. “There’s no better way to pass the time than drinking.”   
“Ciri told us you were doing work with the emperor here. Tell us about it.” Yennefer requested.   
Brynjar chugged down the mead. “Right. Well I’ve been commissioned to offer terms of allegiance to a few provinces…to prepare for the coming war. In fact, I’ll be leaving in a few days, maybe you all would like to come with me?”  
Ciri nodded before anyone could object. “That should be fun, after all you did promise to take me with you if you traveled.”   
Brynjar smiled. “A promise once made, not forgotten,” He stood up and walked towards the kitchen. “I smell it; the stew is ready. Behold, the best vegetable stew to ever put in your belly!” He ladled the stew into bowls for everyone and sliced up the venison haunch along with loaves of bread.   
“Tell us about this mission of yours and said war you mentioned earlier.”  
“Sure yeah. It’s a diplomatic mission, to secure as many allies as possible. First, I need to get to Morrowind, deal with the Dunmer. Then, on to Hammerfell, then to High Rock. They all used to be provinces of the Empire, but their loyalty is a bit…shaky. Skyrim and the Empire alone can’t take on the Dominion, there’s just not enough manpower and there’s only a matter of time before the fighting starts.”   
“One question: when do we leave?” Ciri asked excitedly.   
“Soon, I think. As soon as I get the confirmation document from the Emperor, we can go,” Brynjar poured himself another tankard of mead. “Until then, I’m sure we can find something…constructive to do.” He smirked at Ciri, who definitely picked up the hint. Yennefer did as well.   
“And by constructive, I’m sure you mean telling us how you met Ciri.”   
Brynjar was caught off guard. “Um, what? Oh, right of course. Well, she literally fell from the sky and passed out in front of me. She was clearly exhausted and injured, so I did what I felt was right, and nursed her back to health. And, I don’t mean to sound cliché, but…I fell in love with her the moment she awoke.”   
Geralt frowned. He just wasn’t buying it. “You sure you didn’t fall in love with something else?”   
Brynjar scoffed. “Geralt! What kind of man do you take me to be? My intentions were mostly pure. Living out here for months on end, one gets lonely. And I, well I have a weakness for conversation, I simply must talk to someone. When Ciri came around, I figured she didn’t mind if I talked a little too much.”  
Ciri smirked. “Who said I was ever listening?”  
Brynjar gave her a hurt look. “Oh Ciri. You wound me, how could you not want to hear my wonderful stories? Especially after I sat through your long slog of stories.” Ciri laughed at him, but Geralt and Yennefer frowned.   
“Relax, Geralt, he’s just joking.”  
“Yeah, I do that a lot. But enough about myself. I wanna hear more about you, Geralt. You have to be extremely talented with those swords, to have taught Ciri. She certainly uses those lessons well.”   
Geralt stared at Brynjar and he knew he was going to do everything in his power to completely expose him. “I’m sure that wasn’t fun, having your ass handed to you like that.”  
Brynjar smiled. “Well I’m certainly not used to it, but I find a woman who can beat the pants off me intriguing. Only because I let her, of course.”  
“That’s not what it looked like when you were flat on your ass.” Ciri retorted.   
Yennefer butted in. “Careful Ciri. You know a man’s pride is his most sensitive asset.”   
“Ha! Second most sensitive asset, I’d say. Don’t worry, my pride is not so easily wounded.”   
“How so?” Geralt asked.   
“I have a lot to be proud of. I saved Skyrim and Tamriel from destruction, I ended the Civil War and I lead a band of highly respected warriors. I think I can graciously lose to someone like Ciri.”   
Geralt and Yennefer looked surprised and internally doubted that Brynjar had done any of those things, that he was over-exaggerating. Yennefer intervened. “It should make for an interesting story, telling us how you did all those things.”  
“Oh it will be,” Brynjar opened another bottle of mead and spotted Ciri rolling her eyes. “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t love my stories. Ok, hmm, I think I’ll start with… the Companions’ story. Alright, thousands of years ago, five hundred great warriors conquered and settled Skyrim. They were called the Five Hundred Companions. Their leader went on to become king, but the order remained and established a city around their mead hall, Jorrvaskr. Here’s the thing: the Companions still are respected and known for the fiercest warriors in Skyrim, needless to say, you have to prove your mettle to be counted as one of them. Well the first time I met them, they were fighting a giant. I would’ve helped but, they had already finished it by the time I could draw my sword. I asked who they were and their leader, a woman mind you, told me to come talk to the Harbinger at the time, who would test my arm and spirit. And he did.”   
“Must have been highly respected, that woman, to be leading a band of warriors.” Geralt chimed in.   
“Of course she is, but it’s rather common for women to fight. Do they not do so in your world?”   
“Not often.”  
“A shame. Sometimes women prove to be the bravest and smartest when it comes to war. Anyways, my task was to clear out a barrow where some Silver Hand bandits had holed up. I managed to get us in a sticky situation, so my shield-brother, well he transformed into a werewolf right before my eyes and scared me shitless. We did manage to finish without too much more trouble--,”  
“Wait! Did you just say your friend is a werewolf?” Geralt interrupted again.   
“Yes. It’s something of a ritual that comes with being senior member, consuming and taking on Hircine’s blessing, but--,”  
“Wait! Bryn, does that mean…you’re one of them too?” Ciri asked, shocked.   
Brynjar looked dismayed. He’d wanted to tell her, but he didn’t want to do it this way. “Ciri, that was years ago, I didn’t think about what might happen--,”  
“I don’t care about that, you lied to me. I asked about this several times, but you still never told me the truth.” Ciri stood and started to walk out. Brynjar grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off.   
“Ciri, please,” Brynjar pleaded, but to no avail. Ciri stormed off and slammed the door behind her. He looked to Yennefer and Geralt for help.   
“Give her some time to think. She’ll come around,” Geralt offered, still frowning at him. “I knew there was something off about you, my medallion hasn’t stopped pulsing since we met. How’d it happen?”  
“You must think me a monster. I chose this path, this blessing and curse. To be honest with you, I haven’t regretted it either.”  
Yennefer glared at him with contempt. “What kind of man chooses to be cursed with such affliction?”   
“One who’s young and didn’t think straight. I was living in the present, and in the present, I experienced the rush of air on my face, the thrill of ripping my enemies to shreds, of gushing hot blood. I didn’t think about the future or the consequences.”   
“So give me one good reason I shouldn’t draw my sword and kill you now.” Geralt threatened, stretching his muscles.   
Brynjar sighed. “Because I know you have a conscience. Because I know you don’t kill without reason or thought. And because I’m in love with your daughter.”  
Yennefer touched Geralt’s arm gently. “Geralt, if there’s any time to use those unorthodox practices of sparing sentient creatures, it’s now. I think we can both see past this for Ciri’s sake.”   
“Yeah, you’re right I guess. But don’t think I’ll hesitate again if you transform,” Geralt agreed reluctantly. “Ciri. Let me go talk to her, see if I can talk some sense into her.” Geralt stood up and walked out, following the footsteps Ciri left in the dirt.   
Brynjar turned to Yennefer. “You don’t think any less of me do you?”  
“No, not particularly. I understand having a desire for power at such a young age. However, I don’t understand why you went about that type of method of achieving it.”   
“There’s a way to reverse it, the power that binds me to Hircine, but… I don’t want to be rid of it, to be honest,” Brynjar downed another tankard, and his words began to slur. “But, that’s all a bit grim, isn’t it? Let’s talk about something else, yeah? You know, one woman I had relations with, she was like you: long black hair, funny colored eyes. She was a vampire! Hehe, didn’t stop me though, she might have been dead, but boy was she warm when I was done with her!”  
Yennefer frowned. “Typical male boasting. And I thought you were different.”   
“Oh but I am. What other man can say he saved all mankind? Or can say he bested a dragon? Or even an elder vampire? How many men can say they tamed the cunt of the fiercest woman in Skyrim? Name one!” Brynjar chugged down another mead, against his better judgement and stood up, barely able to stand. “Welp, goodnaht Jennefer, wake me up when Ciri gets here.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ciri had passed out asleep on the ground not too far from the house. She'd gotten tired but refused to go back out of stubbornness. Geralt found her after a few minutes and carried her back to the house and laid her in a bed upstairs.   
The next morning Brynjar awoke with a pounding headache, the symptom of having drunk too much. Oh great, he thought to himself. Really hope I didin't completely fuck up last night. Since his incident with Sanguine and the priestesses of Dibella, Brynjar had tried to avoid getting overly drunk and making stupid decisions. Not to mention he had a reputation for groping beautiful women when he was drunk. He definitely hoped Yennefer hadn't been close enough for him to touch.   
Brynjar stumbled into the main hall to find that Ciri had made breakfast for everyone and that Tarquinius Mede was waiting for him.   
"The General is here. Said it was urgent that he speak to you." Ciri told him, not looking him in the eye, clearly still upset from the previous night.   
Tarquinius stood up to greet Brynjar. "Greetings, Dragonborn. Have a rough night last night?"   
Brynjar groaned, his head still pounding. "Mhm. Definitely drank more than I should have."   
"You can say that again." Yennefer chimed.   
"Well I do have some urgent news for you. And... I know you must trust your friends, but this is sensitive information meant for your ears only." Tarquinius warned.   
"Ah, I see. Come into my office, we'll talk there." The two men walked into a closed off space and closed the door behind them.   
Tarquinius' facial expression changed, giving Brynjar a grave look. "It's time, Brynjar. Time we made a move against the Dominion. We need to get rid of Ambassador Omindal first. But we need to do so without alarming them too much. We know you have... friends in the Dark Brotherhood, perhaps one of them would desire the action?"   
Brynjar fiddled his thumbs. He'd broke most connections with the Brotherhood after he found out they'd tried to kill him. Most except for one... "I don't know. What's the job?"   
"Kill Omindal. Spike his wine, or poison his food, but it must be slow, look like a natural death from sickness. It will be well rewarded, two full chests of gold and jewels and... some immunity in Cyrodiil but nowhere else."   
Brynjar hesitated. Only one person would be so bold and daring to take on the job. "Fine, I'll talk to Ravena, she'll be eager to take the job."   
"Good. You should head on to Morrowind. Septimus is insistent on gaining their support," Tarquinius stood, ready to move on his next assignment. "Time is short Dragonborn. We need allies soon." With a slight flourish of his cloak, the General turned on his heels and walked out the door.   
Brynjar rejoined his guests. He sat across from Ciri, hoping to gain her attention. "Good morning everyone. Ciri, did you sleep well last night?"   
Ciri still refused to acknowledge him. "I slept fine." She crossed her arms.   
Brynjar smiled dismally. "That's good. Well folks, we can set off on our journey tomorrow, but before then, I have some business to see to."   
Geralt stopped him from leaving. "Heard the two of you discussing plans. Something about a Dark Brotherhood?"   
Brynjar glanced at Ciri, who still stubbornly ignoring him. He hadn't told her of the secretive guild and how he'd been in involved in the biggest assassination of the 4th era. He preferred to keep that dark past buried. "It's not important. What is important is that we prepare for departure; we'll be leaving early." Brynjar brushed past Geralt and near slammed the door behind him. He went to a clearing outside and used his well-honed magic to locate and contact Ravena Bloodthorne, a talented assassin and former lover.


	3. Chapter 3

The magic hadn't taken long to work, as it turned out Ravena was in the general area anyhow. Brynjar sat in the clearing for about an hour waiting for her to show up and even then he didn't see her until she was but a foot away from him.   
"You called, Listener?" She fiddled with a dagger, one that Brynjar had gifted her, the Blade of Woe.   
"Don't call me that," Brynjar hated almost anything that associated him with the Brotherhood. "Do you want to know why you're here?"   
"So the sins of the unworthy can be baptized in blood and fear? Or something of that nature? Or do you need some company out here?" She moved closer, licking her lips and caressing his chest.   
Brynjar slapped her hand away. "Don't. I didn't call you here for that. I have a job for you."   
"Oh really? Someone the Dragonborn can't kill himself?"   
He ignored her jest. "It's an extremely high-profile target. Try to take this seriously if you can."   
"Whatever it is, tell me now or I'll leave."   
"It's Ambassador Omindal, in the Imperial City. You are to assassinate him, but it must be a slow death, by poison or otherwise. Draw it out, to look like a natural death. Do you understand?"   
Ravena looked surprised and intrigued. No one had ever trusted her with anything above a commoner or someone insignificant. "Well, well, never thought I'd rise to killing high ranking officials. So what's the reward?"   
"Two chests of gold. The Brotherhood can repair the Dawnstar sanctuary and the Falkreath one if they want."   
Ravena tilted her head in thought. "Say I take the contract, how will I get into this Ambassador's personal household?"   
"I'm not sure yet, but you'll report to General Tarquinius Mede beforehand, so he'll know where to place you," Brynjar rubbed his temples. "Ravena, I cannot emphasize the importance of this mission enough. This mission is critical to the outcome of this war."   
Ravena drew away from him. "You say there's gold in it for the Dark Brotherhood and blood for Sithis, but what about me? What can I gain from it?"   
Brynjar hesitated. "I'll—I'll owe you a debt. Almost anything, if you ask it, I'll try to honor it."   
Ravena smirked and licked her lips again. "Anything?"   
"Almost anything. Nothing to do with sex though."   
"Shame. Where will I find this general?"   
"Bruma. He'll be waiting at the inn, just ask for mead at the counter."   
"Fine," She reached up and kissed his cheek. "So long, Listener."   
Brynjar scowled and wiped away the kiss she'd planted. He'd only been with Ravena as a one-night romance. He'd tried to get her away from him, but she constantly trailed him, never being far behind. Only Nazir and the Dark Brotherhood could keep her away from him.   
Brynjar walked back to the house to find Ciri packing the wagon he'd bought for the journey. She may have been mad at him, but she could barely contain her excitement for the trip. She avoided eye contact with Brynjar as he approached her. "Ciri. Please look at me."   
Ciri glared at Brynjar, her large green eyes full of disappointment. "Brynjar."   
"Ciri, are you mad at me?"   
“Not as mad anymore, but disappointed,” Ciri sighed. “Bryn, I need you to have trust in me if I’m going to trust you. We shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.”   
“Right. No more secrets, I promise," Brynjar held her hand. “So you forgive me?”   
Ciri couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, of course. So when can we get going?”   
“Tomorrow at first light. You’d best help Yennefer and Geralt get ready. I’ll take care of the carriage.”


	4. Chapter 4

The rough rode jostled the carriage as Ciri chattered on about the land of Skyrim. She repeated all she knew from Brnyjar, while he sat in silence. He wanted to think, to take in the landscape. He knew he might never return to his homeland, at least not for sometime. The Emperor would try to have him on the front lines of the battle, and Brynjar would do so. He would not stand by idly while Thalmor elves slaughtered his fellow man and trod on Talos. Brynjar zoned back in when Ciri playfully punched his shoulder.  
"Hey muttonhead, were you listening?"  
"Huh, what's that?"  
"I asked how long it might take us."  
Brynjar thought for a moment. "Hmm, at least three weeks. We'll go to Windhelm first, then catch a ship to Blacklight."  
Geralt groaned. "Ugh, mean to tell me I have to sit in this carriage for that long."  
Yennefer chuckled. "Don't worry, love, you can always walk and stretch your legs."  
Geralt grumbled again. Brynjar shook his head. "Fear not, old pal, I've got plenty to pass the time. Besides, we'll be in Ivarstead in a few hours."  
Ciri rolled her eyes. "Please don't tell a story."  
Brynjar looked back at her, grinning at her exasperated expression. "No? You don't want a story? That's fine, I sing too."  
"Please don't," Ciri groaned, but Brynjar knew she was probably just joking.  
"I once loved a maid who was fairer than spring--," Brynjar bellowed, horribly of tune.  
"I think that's quite enough," Yennefer interrupted, sparing all of their ear-drums.  
Brynjar pouted at her. "Fine, but you're missing out on the best voice in Skyrim," He sat the reins under his thigh and turned to his companions. "Want to hear a story then?"  
"That's fine. Anything but your screeching." Yennefer answered.  
"See that mountain?" Brynjar pointed at the enormous peak, jutting out like giant over the tallest of trees. "That is the Throat of the World, where one of the Divines, Kyne, breathed life into the first men. At its summit, the most epic battle in all of mankind took place. Years ago, when man was a young race, the dragons ruled with absolute power over the humans. Kyne partitioned Paarthurnax, a dragon, to teach man how to shout and--,"  
"How to shout?" Yennefer butted in.  
"Yes, to speak in the language of the dragons. To use the voice is to harness nature itself. The dragons were created with the ability, but according to the legend men couldn't until they were taught," Brynjar took a moment to let the information soak in. "Eventually man grew tired of being underlings to the dragons, so they staged a rebellion. It was a losing fight, the only way to truly win was to kill their leader, Alduin, son of Akatosh, divine of time. So the three most talented tongues challenged Alduin at the summit of that mountain we're looking at. Even with all their might, they could not hope to defeat Alduin, so they found an Elder Scroll, created from the very bones of Mundus, a fragment of creation, and used it to cast Alduin forward in time. They got rid of him for then, but not forever. Paarthurnax waited at the summit, because he knew one day Alduin would return. So he did."  
"Fascinating. So this Voice, tell me more about it." Yennefer asked.  
Brynjar carried on, glad for the conversation. "The Voice is the essence of nature itself. The dragons have an inate ability to use it, they are bound to Akatosh by their very nature. A shout can do many things, slow time, cause a storm, control the elements for example. Men can use shouts as well, but it takes them many years to master even a single shout. With great practice and meditation, one can become a master of the Voice. The Greybeards, who live on top of the Throat, are masters of the Way of the Voice. They are so powerful, all except for one cannot even speak, because they might cause a storm or avalanche."  
"Can you use it?"  
Brynjar sighed. "Yes. There is one who is blessed with the soul of a dragon but the body of a man. He can learn shouts in moments, whereas a regular man would take years. They are called Dragonborn. So yeah, I'm one of those."  
"You don't sound too enthused about it." Geralt chimed.  
"There's an old saying, 'with great power, comes great responsibility.' Sometimes it's all too much. I'm always expected to save the day, be the hero. Sometimes I just want to sit, drink, sing and fuck, you know?"  
"I hear you," Geralt agreed. "Sometimes you just want to rest."  
Brynjar shook his head. "It's a good thing I've had a few years to rest. Now that there's a war on the horizon, I won't have a moment to myself to even breathe."  
The four rode on for a few moments in silence, Geralt occasionally pointing out animals he recognized for fun. He mentioned various bird calls he recognized: woodpecker, sparrow, jackdaw. He looked at Ciri when he singled out the call of the swallow. "That's you, Zirael," he had said.  
The sun had set by the time Ivarstead came into view, the cacophony of birdsongs replaced by the howling of wolves and hooting of owls. Ivarstead was a quaint village at the base of the Throat of the World.  
"A marvelous view," Yennefer commented. "Will we stay at an inn?"  
"We will. Vilemyr Inn. We'll get a nice meal and bed for cheap here." They all dismounted from the carriage while Brynjar unharnessed the horse and led it to a stable, then entered the inn together, finding the warmth of the hearth a pleasant respite from the cool air.  
"Dragonborn!" Wilhelm the innkeeper bellowed. "How do you do?"  
"I'm quite well, Wilhelm. How about you?"  
Wilhelm rubbed his head. "Not as great, I'm afraid. Hard times are abound, I can smell it on the wind. Did you know an Imperial legate came in here the other day? Demanded that all able-bodied citizens join her to fight the Thalmor."  
"Indeed?"  
"It's true, I swear it. And half the village left with her, leaving only the old and children behind. Even my eldest son went with her."  
Brynjar sighed. He knew immediately who come in recruiting, but he could not the inkeeper, not with the way they spread rumors. "I'm sorry to hear that, old friend. Say, you got any rooms open?"  
"Haven't had no one pass through lately, so yeah. How many?"  
"Two. You have anything cooking?"  
"Yeah, rabbit stew's on tonight."  
"Great, how much will it all be?"  
"20 septims for the rooms, 5 per bowl of stew."  
"5 per bowl? Talos have mercy, you're robbing me, Wilhelm!"  
"Not true. Hard times are about, Dragonborn, and not everyone can seek fortune and fame. I've still got to make a living."  
Brynjar handed him a pouch reluctantly.  
"Yeah, stew will be ready soon enough."  
Brynjar turned to Ciri and the crew. "We'll stay here for tonight. Pick a room and fall in bed I guess."  
Yennefer looked distinctly uncomfortable, sweeping the bench with her hand before sitting. "I trust these beds are bed-bug free?"  
"As far as I know, yeah, sure." Brynjar sat next to her, and so did Geralt and Ciri.  
Geralt smiled at Yennefer, his yellow eyes appearing orange in the light of the flames. "I like this, fire's nice and cozy, pretty open too. Hopefully a nice bed as well."  
"Don't get your hopes up. Brynjar and I once shared one and it was miserable, mainly for him, but still."  
Yennefer and Geralt looked at each other. They knew the two had shared a bed once, but it still seemed a shock to them. A part of Yennefer wondered if Ciri had found what she had found in Geralt: a true soulmate.  
The innkeeper brought out bowls of the thick stew and the savory aroma filled their nostrils. All of them, except for Yennefer, began to dig in as soon as the bowl was put before them. "Inkeep," she called. "Do tell what's in the stew."  
Wilhelm frowned. "Why there's rabbit meat, potatoes, carrots, and leeks. What's it to you?"  
"Nothing. Just curious." She sipped the stew cautiously, ignoring how Geralt slopped his down.  
"You got mead?" Brynjar asked.  
"Aye," Wilhelm brought a full tankard to each of them. "Blackbriar Mead, the finest in the land."  
Yennefer eyed the mead cautiously as well. Brynjar frowned at her. "Oh just try it. You'll like it, I'm sure. It's got a perfect balance of sweet and strength."  
She sipped it and found that he was right. It was strong with just a splash of honey to balance the potency of it. "It's...pleasant."  
Brynjar grinned and raised his tankard. "Cheers to us and our journey. May it be a smooth ride."  
"Cheers." Ciri joined in with Geralt and Brynjar. They finished their stew quickly and retired to their rooms. Ciri joined Brynjar, who looked at her lustfully as soon she closed the door.  
"Oh I know that look. Are you sure we should do this tonight?"  
Brynjar caressed her face with one hand and grabbed her buttocks with the other. "Ciri, I've missed you desparately. I worried night and day, and at night, well, my cock worried for me."  
Ciri smirked. "You are just as blunt as ever, aren't you?"  
He grunted in response, kissing her deeply. The kiss was hot with passion, and so were their loins. He ripped his own shirt off and moved to remove Ciri's. She smiled darkly at him as she pushed him down onto the bed and removed her pants and underwear in few quick motions. She sat on his lap and started to kiss him again. She could feel his substantial manhood pressing against the fabric of his trousers. Ciri loosened the laces to free Brynjar's throbbing erection. He drew back from the kiss panting, eager to remove his pants. He moved his hand down to Ciri's sex, feeling how wet she was already, eager for his cock. "Lay down," He demanded. Ciri obeyed, spreading her legs to make space for him. He kissed her neck, slow, teasing kisses that made their way down to her thighs. She bucked in anticipation when Brynjar lightly flicked his tongue over her clit. Brynjar smiled darkly before he flicked his tongue again, then pushed inside. She moaned and ran her hands through Bryjnar's silky hair, pushing his head down with need. He tasted her deeply, sucking with his entire mouth. Ciri felt like she was on fire, pleasure burning every nerve in her body, the drag of of his tongue relentless on her nub. Brynjar gave a slurping sound, as he swallowed her down and liked the taste. Ciri wanted to scream as her climax threatened to seize her. He was groaning now, like man starved, digging his fingers into her bum to bring her closer. She cried out as her climax washed over her like wave, leaving her legs flailing wildly. Brynjar was still kneeling, his stubble dripping with her essence. His blue eyes looked near black in the dim light, his cock throbbing for her. Ciri was more than ready for him, taking his cock and guiding him into her. Brynjar tensed as he slid into her, one stroke making his eyes roll back in his head. He lifted Ciri's leg to push deeper, slowly teasing her. She could hardly take it any longer, she wanted him to go fast, to push deeper in her. He went even slower, taking his time to feel every inch of her walls. She squeezed tighter and raked her nails over his perspiring chest, knowing what would make him go wild. He moaned, falling forward into Ciri's arms. His muscles went taut, trying to hold back his climax. He kissed Ciri deeply and passionately, while thrusting deeper and faster. He pulled away from the kiss, mumbling sweet words of praise in Ciri's ear. She continued to moan, her walls clenching tightly to the girth of his cock, her climax rushing upon her like the tide. Brynjar could feel his too, his cock threatening to explode. He thrust harder as Ciri's walls clenched again and she screamed, her climax washing over her like a wave of heat. She dug her nails into Brynjar's rigid back, her legs limp as she failed to control them. Brynjar came soon after, crying out as his hot seed spilled into her. He cried out Ciri's name as the throes of release seized him. They kissed again, their sweat and juices mingled in a sweet melody. The warmth from their bodies was all they need, what they each had craved. Brynjar whimpered as he slid out of Ciri, her cunt making a wet, sucking sound. He smiled at seeing her face, shimmering with afterglow and still twisted in an expression of bliss. Their eyes met and she smiled at him. "What are you looking at?" Brynjar could do nothing but smile. "I missed you, Ciri." "I missed you too, muttonhead. Yennefer and Geralt's room was right next to Ciri and Brynjar's room. Brynjar had been courteous and given them the larger room, equipped with a desk and chair for Yennefer to perform a travel version of her nightly routine. Geralt simply took off his armor, leaving his undershirt on. He watched as Yen let down her hair and began to brush it. "What do you think?" He broke the silence. "Of what? This country or Ciri's beau?" "Brynjar. What do you think of him?" Yennefer sat in silence for a moment. "Hmm, well, Ciri seems to like him, that's for sure. He seems alright, a bit goofy, maybe a bit of a hero complex, but it could be worse. Overall, I would say he's quite charming." Geralt grumbled. "I just...ah I don't know what to think." "I don't think you need an opinion. Ciri is a grown woman now, she knows what she likes. And if it turns out he's using her, we'll handle him." "If you say so. Seems to me he's got a type." "Like you don't?" Yen smirked. "Humph. Maybe I'll ask him myself. I think that--," Geralt was interrupted by loud moaning. "You hear that?" "I did." The moaning continued and they both immediately knew what was happening. The moans continued, joined by the grunts of a male. Geralt groaned. "Aw no! Are they really doing this now? I can't believe them!" Yennefer stood in her nightgown. "It would seem so. I told Ciri to choose a man who could please her, and just might have." "Yen, really?" "Alright, alright. I'll cast a spell, it'll seal out all sound." She murmured a few words and waved her hands around. They heard a loud scream right before the spell took effect. "Ugh, why the hell..." "Geralt, my love, get some sleep. It'll help you stop thinking about it, I promise." He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Night, Yen." "Good night, my love."


End file.
